


Starry-Eyed

by tinyfierce



Series: Electric Touch, Conductive Skin [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Prompt Fill, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14222313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyfierce/pseuds/tinyfierce
Summary: A collection of Jaal and Ryder oneshots/drabbles/prompts, updated as filled. Fluff, smut, angst, you name it - it goes here. Will change rating as necessary.I often announce when prompts are open on Tumblr - head over there if you want to keep an eye out!





	1. When Flowers Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Anonymous asked:** Your canon Ryder pairing, “I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”_

Ryder stared wistfully at SAM’s scan of the plant as it flashed across her visor.   
  
“It’s so beautiful,” she sighed. “ _Really_  disappointing.”  
  
“You are not the first to have thought so,” Jaal said, chuckling to himself as he knelt in the feathery grass at the base of the rock Ryder had propped herself up on. “Tershae Flowers have claimed many victims.”

The flower itself produced a magnificent red-and-fuchsia bloom nearly a meter across, long silken tendrils emerging from the center like threads of silk couched in a thorny yellow crown. A crown, Ryder learned too late, that spat venomous barbs at anyone who came too close.  
  
“And now we know,” she hissed as the latest burning sensation flashed across her calf. “This is what a Pathfinder does. Make all the mistakes so no one else has to.” Labels began to pop up on the self-generating diagram. “Though I have to say, I didn’t think that a  _plant_  of all things would attack me for scanning it.”

“Havarl has become as dangerous as it is beautiful,” the Angara agreed, inspecting the damage. “It was not always so.”

“I concur, Pathfiner.” SAM’s voice chirped aloud. “Data suggests that this species is a relatively new development.”

Ryder frowned. “How new?”

“Centuries, at most. It is impossible to estimate further without more information.”

“Hm.” She braced herself on the heels of her palms, tapping gloved fingers against the rock thoughtfully. “Centuries means that the research team we encountered definitely knows about them. And probably more. We could have  _really_  used that information before wandering out here blind.”

Jaal’s hands paused. “I will… speak to them,” he said slowly. “The Angara cannot afford to endanger our allies, no matter our –“

“Don’t,” Ryder cut him off. “Don’t apologize. Your people have been through hell, and actions speak louder than words, so –“ She shuddered at another burn. “Trust is earned.”

He looked up at her for a moment, studying her face intently. “Yes,” he agreed. “It is earned.”

A quick swell of heat forced a yelp out of her throat, bringing him back to the task at hand.

“How is the pain,” he asked. “May I touch you?”

“It comes and goes, and yeah, go ahead.” She watched him adjust her leg, noting his low hum of disapproval at the sight of a half-dozen needles sticking out of her flesh. No one had ever asked her permission to treat her wounds before, especially not in a combat zone. She wondered if all Angara were this respectful, or just the newest addition to the crew. “What’s the prognosis?”

“I can remove them here,” Jaal said, leaning back on his arches. “But you will still require medical attention back on the ship. And it will be painful.”

“And if I leave them in until we get an evac?”

“I do not know,” he admitted. “One of your kind has never been stung. This may be the worst of it, or…”

“Or I could lose my leg without help,” she breathed. “The joys of being Pathfinder. SAM?”

“Your skin is swelling in response to the foreign body,” the AI informed her. “Delaying removal will increase both difficulty and pain.”

“Understood. Thanks.” She always thanked it, though she didn’t know if it was necessary. She wasn’t sure she could stop, anyway. “Looks like they need to come out now.”

Jaal nodded his agreement, taking hold of her ankle and resting it on his thigh so that her leg kept taut and straight. He pinched the base of the lowest needle about an inch from her skin, and Ryder could feel the vibration through to her muscle.

“On the count of three,” he began. “One. Two.”

She took a deep breath –

“Three.”

\- and bit back a scream as the pointed barbs exited her skin and likely shredded the entry wound on the way out. One hand slipped from the rock as her vision blurred, and Jaal’s free hand immediately caught firm.

“I am sorry,” he offered, squeezing tightly. “I know this hurts.”

“I’ll be fine. We need to keep going.”

Counting, she discovered, made it worse. Jaal seemed to catch on after the next few, and he pulled the final three out in rapid succession. As Ryder fought down a wave of nausea, she was vaguely aware of Jaal’s hand holding hers tight, the other resting firmly on her leg as he murmured what she assumed to be soothing noises in Angaran. They remained that way as the shaking in her limbs subsided and her breathing evened, signaling his success.

“Lesson learned,” Ryder managed, and Jaal’s laughter was a great relief.

“I, too, have learned something,” he said, releasing her leg.

“What?”

He lifted his hand – the one gripping hers – and brought it to his eye level. “Our races share this instinct. We seek comfort through our hands when in distress.” His gaze was warm. “It is a great reassurance.”

Ryder’s face flushed. “Well, if you needed any more proof that we’re not Kett –“

“You are proof enough for your people.” He stood and offered his shoulder to help her, the touch barrier between them broken.

Ryder leaned against him, making their way to the closest flat space for evac.

“I appreciate it,” she muttered, “but I’m still mad about that flower.”


	2. The Drack Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Anonymous asked:_ ** _Zomg I am so glad you're into writing Jaal/Ryder. :3 For the prompts, “I told you you’d get sick.”_

“I did warn you.”

Ryder crossed her arms, grinning smugly down at the Angara who had been reduced to a sloppy pile of limbs on the crew quarters’ sofa. Groaning, Jaal let one leg dangle off of the side and pressed one gloved hand between his eyes.

“I  _told_  you that you’d get sick,” she said as she pulled up the matching ottoman and took a seat. “Anything that Drack mixes and Liam can vouch for, you leave it on the bar and you  _run._ ”

“So I have learned.” He sank further into the cushions, adjusting his  _rofjinn_  as it pooled. “Still, it was in the atmosphere. And it made them both happy, did it not? I have no regrets.” He chuckled. “Currently. My answer may change tomorrow.”

“I’ll bet.” Ryder smiled; his read hadn’t been inaccurate. Watching an Angara knock back shots had gotten full-on  _cheers_  in the bar, clearly the highlight of the party celebrating the Asari ark’s return to the Nexus. She’d given everyone shore leave for the event, knowing how much they’d earned – and needed – the chance to blow off steam and celebrate.

Jaal surprised her at every turn, the latest being his insistence that bond and skill were on equal footing when it came to a team’s success. And suffering hangovers together was  _definitely_  a bonding experience.

Noting the way his head bumped against the couch’s arm, Ryder reached forward to cram a few throw pillows under it for support. “Here. I can grab more.”

He sank into them, sighing. “Mmn. Thank you.”

In the low light, and with closer inspection, she noticed something she hadn’t on the trek back to the ship. “Hey, Jaal. You look…bluer. Something to worry about?”

“No,” he murmured, turning to meet her gaze. “A shift is quite normal when our bodies are, ah,  _stressed.”_   Amusement tinged his voice. “Fortunately for me, blue is considered an attractive coloration among the Angara.”

“Well, I think you’re  _always_  a beautiful color.”

“And I you.” He turned to face her fully, studying Ryder’s features enough to make her self-conscious. “Have I ever told you how much I adore your eyes?”

“My eyes?” Biting back a laugh, Ryder crossed her arms. “You are  _trashed._ ”

“I’ve spoken to Doctor T'Perro about them,” he continued, either not hearing her comment or choosing to ignore it. “I’d never seen anything like it before – two distinct colors that come together and yet weave intricately apart.”

“Hazel,” Ryder prompted him. “It happens when at least one parent carries the genes for green, and the second has a conflicting dominant or subdominant color.” Her mental Punnett’s square filled out from memory. “Human genetics can be unpredictable, so there are a fair amount of us with it.”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not like yours.” He reached for her, laying one hand on her cheek and drawing her in close enough to settle the other at her waist.

“You are  _incredible_ ,” he murmured, and the hand just above her hip caught the hem of her shirt in its travels, pressing the soft leather of his gloves against her bare skin. “Remarkable and beautiful and  _strong_.”

He was drunk, Ryder reminded herself as the urge to kiss the most lethal freedom fighter she’d ever met hit her yet again, as it was wont to do more and more often these days.

Though if he did this again sober, she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to fight it.

“You know,” she said softly, allowing the boundary between them to slip  _just this much_ , and while he was looking at her like that and touching her like this, “when it’s just us and I’m not in command? You can call me by name.”

“ _Ryder_.”

The way he said it raised goosebumps on the back of her neck.  _Hoo boy._  “No, my – my first name.”

That caught his interest, and his intensity dropped somewhat – much to Ryder’s relief. “I have seen it written,” he mused. “Yet I’ve never heard it spoken.”

“Shea,” she said, and the sudden light it brought to his eyes caught her off-guard.

“Is that how you pronounce it?” His hand abandoned her cheek for his chest, and he chuckled to himself. “Of course.”

“Yes. Wait, why?”

“It is a word,” he managed through a yawn, “in Angaran.”

Seeing that she was losing him to sleep, Ryder prodded. “Hey. Jaal.  _Jaal._ ” She pinched the hand on her hip. “What does it mean?”

But he was out like a light, and she didn’t have it in her heart to wake him.

As she draped a blanket over him, his snore rumbled quietly, and Ryder wondered how late the Moshae was accepting vidcalls.


	3. Closest Thing to a Homeworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Anonymous asked:** Would you consider doing a Jaal/Ryder piece where he meets their sibling for the very first time (before or after they're out of their coma)?_

Ryder had quickly learned that silence needn’t be uncomfortable with Jaal.

Since the freedom fighter had joined the Tempest crew, getting him to speak had been a slow process; the Angara were very wary of trust, and no one could blame them. Still, as he had accompanied her planetside and fought alongside the rest of her team, the talks with him were becoming longer and a few jokes had made their way to the surface. He was opening up, albeit slowly, and she found herself pleased every time he initiated conversation.

Of anyone on board, Ryder knew never to  _push_  anyone for what they couldn’t or weren’t ready to give. Instead, she would offer – and taking him onboard the Hyperion was her doing just that.

“This place,” Jaal said from his position leaning against the tram’s glass. “You’ve spoken of it before, but I don’t believe that I know its purpose.”

“It’s an ark,” she explained. The tunnel walls blurred by, and the low hum of the machinery vibrated against her soles. “A massive transport ship. Each race has one. This is ours.”

The car slid to a stop, and the doors hissed open.

“Come on,” Ryder called as she stepped out. “I’ll show you around.”

As they walked, she noted that Jaal made a point of staying a step behind, whether out of caution or respect. Either way, this visit was meant to be an educational one, and Ryder slowed her pace.   
  
“You can ask me questions, you know.” She turned to face him, gesturing to a terrarium thick with Milky Way flora. “Anything from ‘what is that plant’ to ‘how do your people dress.’ And if I don’t know the answer, I’ll find someone who does.”  
  
He murmured something resembling agreement, ducking his head. “Understood. I did not want to seem… intrusive.”

“Is it the staring?”

Jaal chuckled. “So you’ve noticed.”

The residents and staff had been less than discreet, whispers and glances following them everywhere they went. No wonder he’d been so quiet – Ryder would have likely done the same.

“People are just as curious as they are nervous,” she said, starting to walk again – beside him, this time – and headed toward the south wing. “The last time we made first contact in a new system, the misunderstandings started a war.”  
  
Interested, Jaal kept pace. “With whom?”  
  
“The Turians. It only lasted a few months, but it had a lasting impact culturally on both sides.”

“And now?”

Ryder clasped her hands behind her back, rolling her shoulders back in an effort to dislodge their stiffness. “Kandros is the entire Nexus’ Director of Security, Vetra is a welcome member of the team, humanity established a set of First Contact protocols, and now it’s up to the Pathfinders.” She shrugged. “And I dated a Turian for a while as a teenager. It’s fine as long as your grandparents never meet.” Before Jaal could respond, they arrived at their destination.

“We’re here,” she announced, and hit the panel to open the doors to Cryo.

Once inside, Ryder could see flashes of text crossing Jaal’s visor as he looked around the dark, massive bay. Metal cylinders lined the walkways, windows frosted dully enough to obscure their contents to the naked eye. She knew what he was reading – vital signs, faint and low, but alive.

“Where are we,” he asked. “What is this?”

“You’re in Cryo storage,” a Salarian answered, lowering his datapad and turning to greet them. “Pathfinder. Doctor T'Perro informed us of your visit and your, ah, company. Doctor Carlyle told me to help you with whatever you  need.”

“Thanks.” Ryder gestured to the end of the hall. “We’ll try not to be disruptive.”

“Appreciated.”

She led Jaal to a large terminal, hitting a few keys and bringing up a lit interface. “SAM, can you show him the sleeper bays?”

“Yes, Pathfinder.” SAM’s voice transferred to the terminal as it accessed the system. “Rendering.”

Within moments, lines of light shot up and formed an intricately labeled structure that rotated slowly as it hung in the air. Thousands of the same cylinders lined up in miniature along the sides of what resembled a human silo, and Ryder crossed her arms.

“Welcome to humanity,” she said. “Asleep and completely vulnerable.”

Jaal studied the diagram, blue eyes nearly electric in the dim. “Each of these is one of your people?”

“And no more. What you see here - we’re all there is.”

Ryder felt his gaze snap to her suddenly, and it was intense enough that she found herself unable to meet it. “Until we find somewhere to settle – until  _I_  find somewhere – Hyperion is the closest thing we have to a homeworld. And since we’ve seen yours, I wanted to return the favor as best I could.” She managed a half-smile despite the heaviness in the air. “If our people are going to work together, I wanted you to meet them. To  _see_. I know it probably doesn’t make much sense, as they’re not really - ”

“No,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I understand completely. And…” His voice lowered. “I am  _touched_ , Pathfinder. Truly.”

Silence hung between them as Ryder considered a thought that had occurred to her the moment they’d stepped on board. Should she…?

“There’s someone else I want you to meet, if you’re willing.”

Jaal inclined his head. “Of course. Lead the way.”

It wasn’t more than a few dozen meters to the medbay, and as the medical staff realized her path, they gave acknowledging nods and a wide berth. At the far end of the room, an enclosed bed lay covered in a diagnostic shell, occupant hidden and charts and vitals streaming across its surface. Ryder made her way to the head and gestured for Jaal to come closer.

“Here. This one.”

He complied, glancing over the medical equipment. “Who is this?”

“My brother.” She shifted her weight. “Jaal, meet Scott.”

The Angara’s breath hitched; Ryder could hear the creak of his armor as he straightened.

“Your family,” he asked gently, and she nodded, leaning against the wall.

There was another moment of silence. “Older,” Jaal continued, “Or younger?”

“Younger.”

“Ah,” Jaal chuckled, “younger siblings are always trouble.”

Ryder raised an eyebrow, smile tugging at her mouth. “Careful – we’re only ten minutes apart. Not that different.”

“You have different mothers? Yes; Angaran families are the same.”

“No, one mother. Twins.” At his confusion, she elaborated. “She carried both of us at once. It’s not that rare for humans. Can the Angara not…”  
  
“No.” He gestured to the pod. “But I envy you – such a bond is  _extraordinary._ You must be close.”

“Yeah, we were. Are.”

The question that he wouldn’t ask hovered in the air between them, and Ryder closed her eyes for a few seconds that felt far too short. He wasn’t going to  _push_ ; she would offer.

“He was supposed to wake up with our dad and I. Except Scourge knocked out the power when it was Scott’s turn, and everything got thrown out of balance. He’s stable, but… for now, all we can do is wait and hope.”  
  
“Your parents,” Jaal prompted softly, and Ryder ran a hand through her hair.

“Mom died back in the Milky Way, and Dad died the day we got here.” She turned to glance at what she could see of Scott’s face through the equipment’s window. “Last thing he did was make me Pathfinder, so here I am.”

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice Jaal closing the distance between them until he could speak in tones low enough for her alone to hear.

“Such great responsibility, and you are alone.”

Ryder forced a smile, still not turning to look at him. Not yet. “I’m not alone. I have the team, and you told me yourself that Angara families don’t have to be blood-related.”

“True.” She felt his hand coming to rest on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said, “for showing me this.”

Ryder lifted a hand to cover his, and she squeezed back.


	4. Game Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_tipthewink asked:_ ** _"Honestly, just stop it," for Evfra/Ryder. Or "We really need better people," for Jaal/Ryder. Thank you for all the ficlets, they are really awesome!_

The first time Gil was on extended shore leave, the rest of the Tempest crew took advantage of his absence to have Poker Night on something resembling a level playing field. Vetra, the only experienced bartender on board, ran the whole thing like they were in a seedy off-strip bar on Omega -

-complete with absolutely  _terrible_  alcohol.

“Adds to the ambience,” she said, and Drack let out a booming laugh.

“Damn right,” he said. “If your cup’s clean, you’re not on Omega.”

“What is Omega,” Jaal asked as his glass was refilled, “and why is it terrible?”

“Oh, let me.” Liam raked in the chips and started sorting them back into the holding rack. “So, picture Kadara, except a tenth the size with twice the people. Every type of crime you can imagine, and some you can’t. No government and no rules.”

“It was  _great_ ,” Drack insisted.

“It was a pit,” Cora corrected him, “and the source of a lot of problems. Drugs, weapons, bribes, you name it – it could all be traced back there at some point.”

“Had the best strippers, though.”

“ _Drack._ ”

Ryder snickered as she listened to the banter around the table. They so rarely got to relax like this together, especially so informally. The smack talk that had been encouraged over the game – Cora cleaned them all out, naturally – had made Liam practically  _vibrate_  with happiness. They were just coming off of a big win, too, having Kadara back in (at least for appearances’ sake) Angaran hands. They were salty, they were drunk, and they were  _bonding._

“We’ve still got hours in the night and a  _lot_  more booze,” Peebee pointed out from her seat. Though the game was over, no one had left the table. “And I’m not leaving empty-handed.”

“I turn this over to our social coordinator,” Ryder said, sipping something god-awful with a curl of some mystery fruit wedged on the rim. “Liam?”

He thought a moment, flipping a poker chip between a few fingers. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he palmed it on the table. “Got it. ‘Never have I ever,’ no limits.”

The other humans at the table groaned, but Peebee leaned in. “Ooh, you had me at ‘no limits.’ Rules?”

“It goes like this,” he explained, pulling the lowest-level chips out from their bay. “We go round in a circle, each person making a ‘never have I ever’ statement, anywhere from ‘never have I ever broken a bone’ to 'never have I ever had sex in zero-g.'”

Peebee took a drink. “Oh, I am gonna lose this game.”

“If you match,” he continued, “you’re safe. But if you have done it, you take a chip. Person with the least at the end wins.”

“So what are the stakes?” Drack pulled over a bottle with scribbled Krogan writing on it and popped the cap.

A moment of silence passed before a suitable prize occurred to Ryder.

“I have a photo of Director Tann faceplanting on his office stairs,” she said. “I framed it. Win and it’s yours.”

Judging from the enthusiastic reactions  _that_  got, things were about to get fun. As everyone got up for last-minute refills, Jaal leaned over.

“Are you sure,  _taoshay_? You love that picture.”

Ryder smiled over the rim of her glass. “SAM was taking video. I can replay it in my visor whenever I feel down.”

He chuckled and squeezed her thigh affectionately, straightening as the others began to return. When the last butt was in the last seat, the game was on.

“I’ll start,” Liam said, clearing his throat. “Never have I ever… tried Ryncol.”

Half of the hands around the table went up, though no one was surprised. Drack, Vetra, Peebee, and Ryder all took chips.

“I was a bartender,” Vetra said. “What’s your excuse, Ryder?”

“My brother dared me,” she offered, and Drack snorted.

“The rest of you idiots don’t know what you’re missing.”

Liam folded his arms. “Your liver,  _your_  bad decisions. You’re up, Drack.”

“Right,” he rumbled. “Never have I ever gotten my hand stuck in a vending machine trying to steal a copy of Fornax.”

Everyone laughed as Peebee was the only one to take a chip, angrily snatching it from the center of the table. “Damnit, Drack! I told you that story in confidence.”

Cora leaned back. “Oh, I want to hear this.”

“I was young and curious!”

“How old were you,” Jaal asked, and Peebee looked sheepish.

“Fifty?”

“Speaking of young and stupid,” Vetra interrupted, “never have I ever punched my sibling in the junk.”

Ryder, Jaal, and Drack all raised their hands, the latter most enthusiastically of all.

“Par for the course,” he declared. “You only really need three balls, anyway.”

Jaal took his chip, chuckling at what clearly was a fond memory. “Does it still count if it was an accident?”

“Depends,” Vetra said. “Was it actually an accident?”

Jaal smirked. “No. But that was what I told our mothers.”

“That’s going in my next e-mail to your mom,” Ryder threatened, and Jaal cleared his throat as he pointedly tapped the chip she had  _also_  taken that round.

“I believe it is my turn,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table. “Very well. Never have I ever… run about naked after drinking.”

Peebee let loose a string of colorful swears as she took yet another chip, joined by both Liam and Drack.

“Took two dozen C-sec officers to take me down,” Drack boasted. “Hell of a Monday.”

Liam laughed. “Wish I’d been there. My bit’s boring – got overheated and didn’t think I needed clothes, I guess. Even went for a swim in the Academy fountain and started a tradition.”

“We really need better people on the Tempest,” Ryder muttered into her drink with a smile, and her second-in-command apparently agreed.

“I am instituting an at-least-pants rule on the ship, with the Pathfinder’s permission,” Cora announced, and Ryder toasted her assent, much to the chagrin of the other players.

“Aw, don’t be such a wet blanket.” Peebee pointed to Cora’s nonexistent pile. “Either you’re hiding something, or you are the most boring person-who-decided-to-jump-into-deep-space ever.”

Cora said nothing, only smiled and drank, earning her a frustrated groan from the Asari.

“I  _told_ you I would lose. All right, who’s next?”

“I’m up. Never have I ever…” Ryder considered her statement, given the increasingly risque turn they had each been taking. “Never have I ever had sex with someone of the same gender.”

Jaal, Vetra, and Peebee all took chips, prompting some murmurs around the table.

Vetra studied the Angara through her visor, mandibles flaring in amusement. “ _Interesting,_  Jaal.”

“I make no effort to hide it.” Smirking, he seemed almost boastful as he crossed his arms. “You’ve met my former commander, and have seen for yourself how attractive he is.”

“Seriously,” Liam managed, “you’re telling me that you  _slept with your C.O._? While still in the  _ranks_?”

“Gives a whole new meaning to 'serving under’ someone,” Peebee joked, and Jaal tilted his head.

“You assume too much about the roles in our relationship,” he countered, and Liam choked on his drink.

“Jaal,” he coughed, “have I told you lately that I love you?”

Jaal rumbled a laugh. “I love you too, Liam.”  
  
“Don’t see what the issue is,” Drack said, pouring himself another. “Krogan do it all the time. Fighting’s a hell of an aphrodisiac. That, and blood.”

“Was with you up until that last part,” Peebee said. “Going to have to call bullshit on Cora, though.”

Cora frowned. “What? I didn’t take one.”

“I know!” Peebee leaned over the table, practically crawling over the stack of chips in the middle. “And I’m calling. You. Out.”

“All that time in close with the Asari commandos,” Liam added, “and you _never?”_

“No.”

“Not even once. Trapped in a cave or a safehouse, alone -”

“ _No,_  Liam.”

Vetra gestured with the hand holding a glass. “And your hair.”

“Oh my god,” Cora said, exasperated. “A  _Turian_  does not get to lecture me on my undercut.”

“And if we’re all female, technically Asari are genderless, so…” Peebee shrugged innocently. “She could technically still  _not_  be lying.”

“That’s it, I’m ending this right now.” Cora set her drink down and pointed to the chips. “Never have I ever slept with anyone outside my own race.”

This time, it was Peebee, Vetra, Ryder, and Jaal who took chips.

“All right, fair,” Peebee muttered.

“Dated a Drell for six months,” Vetra said, brandishing her chip. “Beats any high on the market.”

That garnered some probing discussion, cut short when Peebee took count.

“Wait,” she said, frowning. “Jaal, I thought that aside from the Kett, we were the first outsiders to Heleus.”

Ryder tensed, and she saw him do the same.

“You were,” he said plainly.

All eyes turned to him, except for Cora - who nonchalantly sipped her drink and shot Ryder a meaningful sideways glance.

 _Well?_  their silence asked, and Ryder could see Jaal hesitate.

Fuck it, she thought as she finished her drink and set it down on the table. She raised her empty hand, waving it to catch their attention and rescue her lover.

“Pathfinder, reporting for duty.”

Cora smiled, and Ryder felt Jaal’s hand seek hers under the table.

Silence, then an explosion.

“Holy  _shit,_ since when -”

“I knew it! Ha! I told you, I  _knew_ something was going on -”

“Spirits, just tell me  _not on the common room couch_  -”

“Heh. Must be nice to be young.”

“Who made the first move, then?”

“Well, he was already okay with sleeping with his commander, so -”

“This is  _legitimately historical and important_  -”

“And not in our showers, right?”

“Who else knows?”

Despite the feeling of an onslaught, Ryder could see that Jaal was as pleased by the attention as he was embarrassed, attempting to answer whatever questions he could. For her part, the Pathfinder was surprised to find herself rather nonplussed by the entire thing, almost relieved that there was no need for some sort of grand announcement. She’d had nightmares about the latter. But here, over drinking games and poker and good-natured barbs, it felt as right as it was going to get.

“ _Details_ , Ryder,” Peebee pleaded from her left, and Ryder snickered.

“One word,” she said, pausing for dramatic effect. “ _Bioelectricity._ ”

That earned her some laughs, Peebee dragging her palms down her face.

“Ryder, I am literally so jealous of you right now that I could die.”

“You can’t die yet – it’s your turn.”

“Oh, shit. Right. Ahem.” She straightened, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “Never have I ever… seen a Blasto vid.”

A collective gasp came up from the rest of the table, and she backed away defensively. “What? They’re total trash.”

“You’re  _wrong,_ ” Vetra told her, and Liam stood up from his seat.

“You need to be educated,” he said, “and I have Blasto One through eight on my drive, including the holiday special.”

“Noo,” Peebee whined, but it was too late. Bottles were grabbed, arms were taken prisoner, and the group was on the move to the bridge to hijack the projector. Jaal hung back, waiting for Ryder to join him.

“I…” he began as they walked. “Was that… all right?”

“Yeah. It’s good.”

He smiled, lifting his arm to invite her beneath it. She accepted, draping her arm lazily about his waist.

“I was surprised,” he admitted. “You prefer to… discuss such things, and we never had the chance.”

“True.” She laughed. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m that drunk or I love you that much, but it worked out.”

At the word 'love,’ the hand on her shoulder squeezed warmly. He always reacted when she said it aloud.

“So,” he prompted. “What is a Blasto?”


	5. Cloaking Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Anonymous asked:** If you're still taking requests, Jaal shows Ryder how to do his sneak attack move?_

Ryder frowned down at her wrist, cloaking device heavy on what used to be a very light hand.

“I already don’t like it,” she said, waving it experimentally.

“It is the lightest model currently in existence,” Jaal informed her as he tugged a crate into place. “You won’t find a better one.”

The valley stretched out on either side of the outpost, Kadara’s grassy landscape giving way to rough, craggy peaks that enclosed the smuggler’s den they’d cleaned out and reclaimed weeks ago. It was near enough to the Andromeda settlement that the militia used it as training grounds, though they’d left it for the Pathfinder’s personal use that afternoon, outlaws’ cover and barricades still intact.

“I use my hands a lot with my biotics.” Ryder went through the motions of sending out a blast. Confirmed – slower and clunkier. “Even something like a ring could throw me off.”

“Which is why you’ll need practice. Now.” Jaal pointed out a mesh-covered crate sporting a few scorch marks about a hundred meters away. “Watch what I do.”

He blinked out of sight for a few seconds, only to reappear behind the crate with a wave. “And again,” he called, disappearing.

He was gone longer this time. Frowning, Ryder leaned forward over her cover -

\- only to feel warmth against her back as Jaal pinned her in place from behind, arms coming into view as they trapped her.

“It’s quite useful,” he murmured against her ear, hips pressed firmly into her backside, “when one needs to be  _very_  close.”

Smirking, she shifted her hips back a bit. “In combat?”

“Among other things.” He hummed appreciatively, planting a kiss on her neck and giving her a playful squeeze as he extricated himself. “'Give it a shot,’ as you say.”

Skeptical, Ryder hit the switch on her glove to activate the cloak. Looking down at herself was odd – as though she were somehow covered in an oil slick – but she was here to learn. She leapt over the barrier, running where Jaal had been moments ago, and flicked back into visual. Jaal was watching from their origin point, arms crossed.

“Faster,” he instructed.

She did it again on the return, this time sprinting to her destination.

“So,” she breathed. “How was that for time?”

“Still too slow. You need to arrive before a motion sensor tracks you.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Watch again.” He flashed to the target, and Ryder frowned.

“Hey, SAM. Can you record this?”

“Yes, Pathfinder.” The artificial voice chimed in her ear. “I will expand Jaal’s movements by the millisecond for ease of study.”

“Perfect.”

When Jaal came back, she asked him to repeat it a third time, and watched SAM’s playback of the strike via heat signature. It spiked at the beginning of his run, high and hot.

Bioelectricity, she realized. He was propelling himself with  _energy._

“All right,” she announced. “I have an idea.”

“By all means.”

Bouncing in place a bit like a boxer, Ryder gathered up the biotic force needed for a charge. “Three,” she muttered. “Two.”

She hit the cloak and leapt forward, unleashing the biotics she’d gathered…

…and went careening straight into the target barrier and dented it, tumbling ass-over-head with an undignified squawk.

“ _Damnit,_ ” she breathed from the ground. “I was  _sure_  that would work.”

She heard a laugh from above as Jaal leaned into view, offering his hand. “You succeeded,” he admitted. “Perhaps a bit too spectacularly _._ ”

She took it, and he brushed her off. “Once you’ve recovered, we’ll try again.”

A wicked thought struck her as his hand (albeit innocently) grazed her backside, and she indicated a rocky outcropping further out. “What about with higher ground?”

“Ah, yes. You’ll need to compensate midway.” He rolled his shoulders. “Shall I demonstrate?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

He turned and disappeared, and she waited for him to come into view on the rocks. He raised a hand to indicate his return, and as he blinked back out, she counted down again - this time without moving her feet.

Three.

Two.

At ‘one,’ she reached out and grasped at where she estimated he’d be, lifting him with her biotics. She wasn’t sure she’d succeeded until his cloak faded and there he was in midair, looking perplexed in a bubble of swirling neon. As his gaze fell on her, however, the confusion was replaced with equal parts amusement and irritation.

“Very clever,  _taoshay._ ”

“I thought so.”

“A counter is useful, though not the point of the exercise.”

She lowered him a bit as she walked closer, but didn’t free him. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we practice cloaking first, and we can move on once I’m better at that?”

Jaal made no attempt to right himself in suspension, and his total trust warmed Ryder’s heart.

“That seems reasonable,” he concurred. “What do you suggest?”

Ryder only offered a smirk, saying nothing as she shrugged off her jacket. She toed out of her boots next, leaving them neatly beside an empty storage cylinder. Then came the belt, holster, armguards, all added to the pile.

When she reached for the zipper of her undersuit, she didn’t need SAM to tell her that Jaal’s heart rate was up.

“Ryder,” he managed as she peeled out of it and bent over a little more than necessary to give him a good view. “Darling one, I - what are you -”

She made eye contact once more before switching on her cloak, seeing his eyes follow the bra and panties that materialized and neatly finished off the heap of clothes.

“I won’t go far,” she instructed, “as it’s both mildly dangerous out here and no fun if you  _don’t_  catch me. But this hold will drop as soon as I pass fifty meters.” With slow, silent footsteps, she passed by him and grazed an invisible hand over his crotch, eliciting a moan.

“When it does,” she whispered, “count to thirty. And then come find me.”

She squeezed once, and she was gone.


	6. Shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Anonymous asked:_ ** _For the prompts: Jaal (or Evfra) and Ryder working through physical differences? Maybe finding different erogenous zones? (also, I'm going to go read through all of your writing now because h o l y s h i t)_

Jaal had recently begun to feel anxious when Ryder went on planetside journeys without him.

It wasn’t that he was worried for her safety – far from it. He had seen how incredible of a soldier she was, how formidable her abilities. He held confidence in the team just the same, and there wasn’t a single one among them that he wouldn’t trust with her life.

No - more and more often, he found himself awaiting her return with a bioelectric hum in his skin and a tightness in his chest. Were she an Angara, he would know how to advance their intimacy. The most open and important moments were after stressful events or time apart – both of which were well-represented on each mission – and yet he held himself back each time she re-boarded.

How did humans deepen their bonds? Show their joy and affection at seeing their loved ones’ faces again? Humans were much more personal, he had learned, much more private about demonstrating their feelings, and the last thing he wanted to do was drive her away. The yearning had only intensified as their relationship had become tender, something that both elated and terrified him.

And that pull had left him pacing in the docking bay since the Nomad had signaled that it was en route half an hour ago.

A blast of heat reflected off of Eos’ surface as the hangar door opened. For a moment, everything was blinding – but Jaal was already walking forward as Ryder hit the button to shutter the door closed behind her.

“Well,” she said, “that was educational.”

Drack chuckled, giving his carapace a rough shake and sending a spray of sand across the floor in either direction. “Admit it, Ryder, that was  _funny._ ”

Ryder was about to call over a response when her gaze fell on Jaal, and the smile that greeted him warmed him like the desert sun.

“Jaal! You were waiting?”

“Not long.” He tapped the back of his wrist to her shoulder – an Angaran greeting that he had taught her – and she did the same to his. “Was your trip a fruitful one?”

“Better,” Drack interrupted. “Knocked two remnant together. Ended up fusing when they were trying to repair the damage. Exploded pretty quick.” He shook a rock out of his cowl. “Heh. It was great.”

“All right,” Ryder conceded, “it was hilarious. Still, twice the remnant means twice the explosion, and I do not want to get caught in that again.”

“Speaking of which.” Cora appeared at her side, stripped of her armor to the waist. “Let’s have a look at that shoulder.“ 

Jaal watched with great interest as Ryder obeyed, sitting on a crate and peeling away pieces of her outer guard.  “Left one,” she said, and Jaal noticed a twinge as she maneuvered that arm. “I’m not sure what got hit, exactly.”

“We’ll see.”

Her hands settled on Ryder’s shoulder, and Jaal’s breath caught in his throat.  As she explored the area with firm, probing touches and Ryder exposed the side of her throat to grant Cora better access, he felt heat rising to his face. It was a few moments before he realized how rude his stare was, and politely averted his gaze.

He had thought humans more private. Perhaps his observations were incorrect.

“Feels like you just pulled it,” Cora announced after a short while. “Go easy on it and you should be fine.”

Ryder rolled her neck as Cora withdrew. “Roger that.” She stood, pulling up an interface on her omni-tool as she glanced over at Jaal. “I have to debrief Addison, but we can talk on the way?”

“I – have something that needs my attention here,” he replied. “But I would very much like to hear any stories you may have. Later, perhaps.”

She nodded, typing as she walked. “Sure, just come find me.” The message screen beeped for her attention, and as soon as she was through the first set of doors, Jaal quickly crossed the bay to Cora’s side.

“Jaal!” She finished clicking her pistols back into place on the rack. “Need something?”

“A moment, if you have time,” he said. “Privately.”

* * *

The door to the Pathfinder’s cabin was open, and Jaal rapped one knuckle against the metal wall.

“Come on in.”

As the door slid shut behind him, the first thing he noticed was her posture. As she sat at her terminal, the side supporting her injured arm was rolled forward and slumping to better relieve the pressure. He knew that feeling all too well, and his own shoulder throbbed in sympathy.

“Sorry about this morning,” she said as she crossed over to sit on the sofa nearest him. “Duty called, but…” She smiled and draped her good arm over the back of the upholstery. “I really was looking forward to spending time with you.”

That smile. Those words. His  _heart._

“So was I,” he admitted, closing the distance between them. “How is your injury?”

“Uncomfortable and stiff, but minor. Nothing to worry about.”

She attempted to demonstrate, but flinched the moment she extended her arm. With a hiss, she reached up to press her fingers into the space just above her shoulder - and Jaal saw his opportunity.

“Please,” he said, replacing her hand with his. “Allow me.”

To his delight, she immediately turned her back and squared up against the sofa, offering the injured area up freely. “ _Yes_ ,” she groaned, “by all means.”

Cora had been most instructive, as had the ‘volunteers’ she’d recruited from their human staff. After he’d explained how intimate shoulders were to the Angara – and she apologized profusely for any offense she might have caused – she had been more than happy to offer her expertise.

It was a softer skill, she’d said with a note of regret, most of which she rarely was given a chance to showcase. He liked Cora; her commando training and disciplinary air hid a tender heart.

Jaal was grateful for the favor, and even more so for the insight into humanity.

As his thumbs found the nape of Ryder’s neck, her head tilted forward and displayed an expanse of bare skin that set his heart racing. How little it took for her to unfold under his hands, he marveled, how she trusted and welcomed his touch. He found the ridge of her spine and began to press long, firm v-shaped strokes outward, rewarded by her quiet sigh.

The spine was so vulnerable, especially considering its importance. It was a large part of why shoulders were so important to the Angara, why all of their cowls and capes were so designed. He imagined the fabric of a  _rofjinn_  pooling around Ryder’s shoulders as his fingertips wove downwards, heat of her skin radiating even through the barrier of his gloves. He would sew her one, designed after his own, and buckle it about her as he explained the garment’s significance.

Jaal felt a flush in his throat. Such a gesture was surely too soon. Yet how could he not think of such things, when he was being granted such intimacies as this?

His thick, fused digits flattened as her neck curved, following the muscles -  _trapezius,_ Cora had called them - as they blended into the dip between shoulder and throat. He met some resistance from the tension and swelling that followed trauma, and Ryder hissed out a tight breath.

Jaal took great care to work through every inch and ensured the release of each taut strand before moving on. He had always been commended in the Resistance for being thorough, and it stood to reason that he would be the same in other areas – especially when it came to bringing pleasure and comfort.

 _Pleasure and_ _comfort_ , he thought to himself as he switched to using the heels of his palms and deeper pressure. The choice of phrasing wasn’t lost on him; he was almost grateful to be wearing his gloves while touching her so intimately. She stifled a moan, and every nerve in his fingertips sang.

The thrill of courtship was made all the more beautiful and terrifying when navigating not only a new lover, but a new  _race_  and  _culture_  and  _way_  to love.

Jaal was ready and willing.

“How does this feel,” he murmured as he ran long, firm strokes upward. “Is this all right?”

“Better than all right.” A warm noise vibrated in her throat and she mumbled something unintelligible. “Thank you.”

Pleased, Jaal continued moving up, following the trail of muscle back to her nape. He began rubbing slow circles in the flat plane behind her ear and jaw on either side of her neck, enjoying the hum it earned him. Learning every inch of his darling one’s physiology was a privilege; he would offer his own body to her in the same way.

He seemed to have discovered a particularly enjoyable spot, as exploring behind her ears brought a smile to her face and she leaned her head back to be better pressed into his hands.

Her upturned face was too much to resist. Taking the chance, Jaal slid the fingers of both hands under her chin and tilted it up just a bit more to grant him better access. The buckles of his  _rofjinn_ clicked against the back of the sofa as he stooped to close the remaining distance between their mouths in a warm, affectionate kiss.

To his relief, Ryder stretched her arms up to pull him down closer despite the awkward angle, and he chuckled against her mouth when his chin bumped her pointed human nose. Any entertainment, however, was soon replaced by heat as the kiss deepened and the taste of her blossomed on his tongue. He felt her grip on his shoulders tighten, and he groaned softly at the low thrum of heat that it elicited.

Their first kiss had been sparked from joy, from hope – but this one held the promise of  _desire_.

As they parted, she kept him from withdrawing too far, smiling at him lazily and running the delicate fingertips of one hand over his chin and nose. “Hey.”

His heart double-beat.

“Hello.”

She snickered, lifting her face to gently press her forehead to his.

“Come sit next to me,” she invited. “Kiss me again. I’ll tell you about the mission, and you can tell me about what you did while I was gone. Sound good?”

“I would like nothing better,” he said, and he meant it.


End file.
